


Stolen Mementoes

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Priest (2011)
Genre: Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:31:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Black Hat takes some time with his stolen mementoes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Mementoes

The train shuddered and swayed around Black Hat, as he laid himself down upon the slowly growing pile of clothing stored in one corner of his personal carriage. Each item had been plucked from every victim he’d fed from, coats and scarves, jackets and gloves, even a dress or two in some cases. He draped one of the coats over his body, a remnant of a man he’d fed from in a shadowed alley in some walled city long since left behind. 

Each city the vampire visited on his quest for vengeance were miasmas of teeming life ripe for the taking, all life and blood and nameless prey that bled one into the other into another. It was all the same to him in the end, yet the articles of clothing helped him to remember the thrill of the kill, the bliss of the feed and the eternal hunger that drove him ever onwards. It made him feel alive again, wanted, necessary, as if each memento proved his very existence when he felt said existence had been long since ripped away from him. 

It gave him purpose, as though each piece of fabric was a travesty, a blasphemy against what he once was and against those he’d once considered his brethren. Even though it was quite likely that the Priests and Priestesses would never see his personal stash, it seemed as though it was the one last and ultimate betrayal against them, something that was entirely his in his vengeance filled life as it currently stood. 

He moved again, yellow eyes glinting in the light that lanced through a crack in the carriage’s wall, irises flaring into green ringed gold sparkles at the edges. He sighed and inhaled the scents of the former owners of each and every piece of clothing, their lives mapped out in fabric and velvet, cotton and leather. He stroked fingers against one such piece of leather, smooth against the pads of his fingertips and he inhaled sharply again. He could smell blood on this clothing, blood of his victims that fired his hunger and made it flare in his stomach. He grinned, fangs revealed in cool lines against the heated dimness of the carriage. He sighed, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before his hunger would be sated. Instead, he focussed on another craving, something that could be immediately satisfied and required no such victim of the hunt. 

He unzipped his pants, cock already hard with memories of blood and feeding and the thrill of the chase, of memories unbidden and memories that were yet to be made. He curled his fist around himself, hissing at the heated feel of his palm against his cock, yet he continued, pleasure soon coiling through him as he did so. His eyes fluttered closed, dark eyelashes fanning against his cheeks and his lips parted again, fangs dipping low to rest upon his lower lip. He bit down slightly and tasted the coppery tang of his own blood, there and gone in an instant yet always remembered. He licked his lips, a frown working at his brows as he stroked harder at himself, surrounded by the scent of blood and wasted human lives.

He felt the needle-pricks of impending orgasm coiling in his abdomen and he stroked harder, eyes flying open to stare sightlessly up at the rattling ceiling above him and he cursed when he came, an endless stream of meaningless words that echoed back at him and were swallowed again. He shuddered his way through his climax, still erratically touching himself to prolong the sensations of ecstasy. He relaxed back against his nest of stolen mementoes once it was over, a motionless body amongst the vagaries of stolen lives. He laid there, staring up at the ceiling until finally, he smiled.


End file.
